The silver wood burned without crackling. In the Primeval Sector, even fire knew to keep its voice down.

  In his lap lay a length of petrified Iron-Oak, which he was tightly binding in reinforced hemp rope to improve the grip.

  Beside him, Happy Dan was a shell of his former self. The Hyper-Etheric Absinthe sat between his boots.

  Val could see that the crystalline bottle was still half-full, its violet liquid swirling dangerously.

  Dan looked like he had been hit by a freight train. His eyes were bloodshot, and his body was damp with a cold, alcoholic sweat.

  Val paused, the blue light of the misaligned Ether-Orb reflecting in his eyes. “By the way, Dan,” Val said, his voice low. “I have to thank you. Others would have run away, yet you’re still here.”

  Dan stopped mid-chew, a half-crushed cracker held between trembling fingers. He let out a dramatic, wet sniffle. “Ah man... keep it down, Val,” Dan groaned, wiping a mock tear with his sleeve. “You got me tearing up over here. Really. Or maybe that’s just my brain leaking out of my ears.”

  His thick fingers pointed continuously at the bottle at his feet. “That purple stuff...is lethal. I’m telling you.”

  He leaned in tentatively, his shark-grin appearing for a second.

  “Uhh… is this because you want another cracker or something? Because I'm running low on the 'Zesty Ranch' ones, and I don't give those up for free. Not even for a guy with a snake-arm and a heart of gold.”

  Val glanced at him for a long beat, watching a bead of sweat roll down Dan's forehead. Then, he turned back to the Orb.

  A small, dry huff escaped his chest. It wasn't quite a laugh, but it was the closest thing to humanity he had left.

  Suddenly, Val’s vision flared.

  A sharp, stinging chime rang in the back of his skull.

  [MANDATE: PROXIMITY ALERT — BLACKTOOTH GANG ACTIVITY DETECTED] [OBJECTIVE A: EVADE INTERSECTION] [REWARD: NONE — SURVIVAL IS THE COMPENSATION]

  Val’s lip curled. Another variable came one after another.

  [SIDE OBJECTIVE MANDATE#1— A-TIER: FREE THE KIDNAPPED MARTYR]

  [REWARD: LOW GRADE BOOSTER PACK]

  [SIDE OBJECTIVE MANDATE#2— S-TIER: NEUTRALIZE THE BLACKTOOTH GANG]

  [REWARD: CLASSIFICATION LOCKED — CALCULATED UPON COMPLETION]

  [NOTE: RISK ESCALATION CONFIRMED]

  The air seemed to still.

  Even Dan noticed it, his hand moving instinctively toward the hilt of his club.

  "You get the ping too? That’s… that’s an S-Tier bounty. I’ve never seen the System get that desperate for a hit before. I wonder how many Hyper-Etheric Absinthe that can be translated into."

  Val continued his preparation. He didn't look at the trees. He looked at the air.

  With the Monofilament Scalpel in his left hand, he made a precise, horizontal cut through a hanging vine of crystalline sap. The blade bypassed the plant's reinforced cellular walls.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Careful with that junk," Dan whispered, leaning against a petrified trunk. "One wrong poke to that sap, then we’re screwed."

  "I'm not poking it," Val murmured, his eyes tracking the HUD in his Halo. "I’m stabilizing it."

  Val capped the vial of indigo fluid, the stabilizer clicking into place with a cold finality. "It’s done.”

  Dan stretched his back, “About time. So, what now doc?”

  “Now we just follow the noise."

  With that declaration, he stood and activated his grey Halo. Off to the wilderness.

  Val didn't hunt with his eyes; he tracked the world through the biometric architecture of the Halo. To his augmented vision, a path of unrefined amber resonance bled into the atmosphere.

  Every desperate swing of Marcus's cracked Rungu left a jagged thermal scar in the violet fog. A trail of entropic waste that Val tracked with clinical ease.

  He could feel the gravitational thrum of the Abyssal Heart through the silver silt, vibrating against his own obsidian veins like a homing beacon.

  A hundred yards ahead, the group was unaware it was being watched.

  "Left flank is clear."

  Dan was seven paces back, his heavy frame moving with surprising silence through the brush.

  Val was already in position, crouching. Dan dusted off his pants before he joined Val.

  His eyes squinted through the bushes, then he rubbed his eyes just to make sure if Hyper-etheric Absinthe is playing tricks to his sight.

  “Look at that foxy lady right there, Val,”

  Dan whistled at the sight below him. “If I was your age, I would’ve given it a go.”

  Lysa stood at the edge of the clearing, her designer-adjacent rags fluttering in the sterile wind. She watched their ragged group of 10.

  Marcus, Rafa, Elena was there. She joined them a day ago along with Noah.

  Yesterday, she thought that was a smart decision. Not anymore.

  'Ssi-bal…' she thought, her internal voice a sharp, venomous hiss. 'I was supposed to be in Milan. I was supposed to have a Strawberry Glaze Skin Smoothie. Now I’m following a guy who calls himself "Ice-Cold Killa" through a forest of metal toothpicks.'

  Her left eyelid gave a sharp, involuntary twitch. She quickly smoothed her expression into a mask of regal indifference as Elena looked her way.

  "You okay, Lysa?" Elena asked softly.

  "I'm flawless," Lysa replied, though her eye jumped again.

  Marcus didn't hear her. His head cocked toward the dense treeline.

  “Something’s here… Get your head up, boys.”

  Soon after, the rhythmic crashing of snapping branches broke the stillness from the north.

  The group’s frantic pace stalled as the Silvergrass parted to reveal a frantic guy running toward them. Heavy breathing echoed through the clearing.

  “Save me… Please save me…” The man stumbled, his hands outstretched. His uniform was shredded, revealing skin that had been scorched by Primeval Sector’s wilderness.

  "Stop right there!" Marcus barked, raising his cracked Rungu. The bronze wood sputtered with a dying, orange light. "Who are you? Who’s following you?"

  "I’m—I'm from the third batch!" the man sobbed, collapsing to his knees a few feet from Marcus. "The Blacktooth... they came for us. I’m the only one left. Please, you have to help me!"

  Rafa stepped forward, his neon-yellow Halo flickering with agitation. "Yo, Marcus, look at his legs, man. He’s been dragged."

  "Marcus, let him in. He’s unarmed," Elena joined the fray.

  Marcus hesitated, his eyes darting to the dense grass behind the man. He wanted to be the leader, the hero who gathered the survivors. "Fine. Get him up. But keep your eyes on the man."

  From the shadows of the treeline, Val watched the variables align.

  He simply adjusted the grip on his Roped Iron-Oak. Waiting for the exact microsecond when Marcus’s concentration is divided, leaving their own flank exposed.

  Val stepped out from behind an Iron-Oak, his eyes cold. His right hand on his pocket, ready to go.

  Suddenly, he felt Dan's hand on the back of his coat. Val became slightly irritated because his momentum was interrupted

  "Not now, Dan."

  Val flinched, spinning around.

  Happy Dan was standing right behind him, his whisper sounded a little bit off, "Doc, think you gotta see this..."

  "Not now, Dan," Val repeated, his voice a jagged whisper. "He’s right there. This is the window."

  "Maybe," Dan said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder toward the dark brush. "But the big dog behind us doesn't care about your drama."

  The air turned freezing. A low-frequency growl vibrated the very atoms of the forest.

  [THREAT DETECTED: ABYSSAL HOUND (ELITE)]

  Before Val could let out a scream, the beast already exploded into motion.